Wild Wild McKay A Short Saga of the Old West
by toosweet
Summary: Rodney in the Old West


**Disclaimer:** I know. I should have mentioned this before but I don't own Stargate: Atlantis. Only the characters that have sprung from my mind that have somehow ended up here.

**A/N:** I have no idea why I wrote this. It just came to me and here it is. Just a one shot thing. Enjoy!

**Wild, Wild McKay – A Short Saga of the Old West**

At a table in a far corner of the saloon sat an unassuming man. He was fortyish, slightly balding with _pince-nez_ and dressed in clean but well-worn clothing the color of North Texas mud. He had a fountain pen, ink pot and more than a few sheets of paper spread out around him. Some of the pages were covered with complex calculations, others had paragraph after paragraph of his thoughts, reflections and musings about the world around him. Someday he would be famous and people would want to read his memoirs. He wasn't famous _yet_ but he was certain he would be one day and wanted to be ready.

The saloon doors swung open, a tall good-looking man dressed all in black, his dark hair covered by a black cowboy hat, and a sparkling set of Peacemaker 9mm, also in black, nestled in a double tooled holster, again in black. He looked around the room then ambled up to the bar and ordered whiskey. He knocked it back, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and belched.

The man in the corner caught his attention and he moved in that direction, his spurs jangling. He stood next to the table, one hip thrust to the side, and waited to be noticed. It wouldn't take long. Everyone noticed him eventually.

"Working here."

"Too bad."

"You're _in _my _light_."

"Too bad again."

"Look," The balding man said with undisguised contempt, "What I'm doing here is _very_ important and I _can't work_ with you in the way so, just...go away." He waved dismissively.

Johnny Sheppard, gunslinger and all around bad guy, didn't cotton to being dismissed any more than he did to being ignored. "No one tells Johnny Sheppard, gunslinger and all around bad guy, what to do." He reached out and picked up several of the sheets of paper. "What's yer name? And what're ya doin'?"

Rodney McKay sighed noisily. "My name is Rodney McKay and I doubt you have the intellectual capacity to grasp the concept so I won't bother to explain." He snatched the pages back and went back to his writing but something compelled him to explain any way. "It's called _long division_ but since you probably can't read _or_ write you wouldn't have _any idea_ what I'm talking about. So just…leave, okay?"

"Hey, are you callin' me stupid?"

"If the moniker fits…"

"Ya _are_ callin' me stupid!"

"Well, duh, Johnny McKnows-nothing. Finally, a concept you _can_ grasp!"

"No one gets away with callin' Johnny Sheppard stupid. I'm callin' you out!" He stepped back, purposefully placing his hands on the butts of his weapons.

"What? Don't be silly. I don't even own a gun."

"This town ain't big enough for the both of us. I want you outta this town by sundown, McKay!"

McKay's eyes widened in fright behind the lenses of his _pince-nez_ when the gunslinger caressed the butt of the Peacemaker under his right hand. "Really? 'Cause I generally have dinner about that time and i-i-if I don't eat my blood sugar will be in the w-w-wood cellar. Plus, do you know how _cold_ it gets in the d-d-desert at night? I'll be dead of hypothermia before m-m-morning. A-a-and I don't have a horse. Can't even ride one. Not to mention…"

Sheppard thought about it a few minutes, his face scrunched up as he tried to understand the stuttering appeal "Huh?"

"W-w-what I mean is…"

"Never mind. Stand up. I said _stand up_!"

McKay stood automatically, grabbing his papers and clutching them to his chest. His eyes were wide in terror, his breath gasping from his lungs.

"Now turn around!"

"W-w-what are you going to do?"

"Whaddaya think I'm gonna do? I'm gonna shoot ya in the back and watch ya _bleed_." His face looked pleased with the idea.

Reluctantly, McKay turned around, his lips moving in a silent prayer. When the shot came he flinched. He felt no pain so he turned slowly around. The gunslinger was on the floor bleeding profusely from a wound in his chest. He gurgled a few times then was still.

"W-w-what happened? Who shot him?"

"_I_ did." McKay's eyes tracked around and up toward the voice. There, on the landing midway down the stairs, stood an attractive and very angry woman holding a 8mm M1894 Lever Action Rifle, smoke curling out of its barrel. She was young and slim, her dark blonde hair in two braids. Dressed in dungarees and a cotton shirt, she raised her chin in defiance.

McKay was immediately smitten. "Who are you?"

"I'm Jenny Keller and this is my place. And _no one_ makes threats to my customers in my place and gets away with it." She looked over at the tall dangerous-looking man with long hair behind the bar. "Ronon, get _that_ out of my saloon. Put it out back with the rest of the trash." The rifle's end pointed at the lifeless body of Johnny Sheppard.

McKay watched as she made her way down the stairs and moved to stand in front of him. She lowered the rifle and, quite unexpectedly, smiled. "Mr. McKay, I've been watching you every day when you come in here to write whatever it is you write. I find you…appealing and want to know if you would like to be my guest for dinner."

"Uh, y-y-yes, I would. A-a-and you can call me Rodney."

"Rodney." Her eyelashes lowered to her cheeks then she brought her gaze up to his. Placing her hands on his shoulders, she leaned forward, rising up onto her toes. To Rodney's shock and delight, it looked as if she were going to kiss him right there in front of God and everyone.

"Rodney. Rodney. Rodney?" A hand started shaking him and Dr. Rodney McKay shot to a sitting position. Radek Zelenka was peering into his face. "Rodney? You fell asleep in the lab again. Why don't you go on to bed?"

McKay made a disgusted noise. "Why didn't you just let me _sleep_? I was having the most wonderful dream about…oh, never mind. Maybe I will go have a little lie down." He exited the science lab and turned toward his quarters.

As he passed the dining hall he peeked in thinking he might grab a quick snack first. There, sitting all alone reading a paperback book was Jennifer. She was turned slightly away from him so her face was in profile. A lock of her hair had fallen across her cheek and Rodney sighed envying that small strand of hair. She raised her cup to her lips then ran her index finger through a half devoured slice of chocolate cream pie. His body tensed almost to the point of pain when she stuck her finger in her mouth and sucked the sweet filling off of it. He wondered if she would think he was a perv if he offered to do that for her.

She must have sensed him watching because her eyes turned to meet his and she smiled beckoning him over. He grabbed a cup of Chamomile tea, no lemon, and sat down across from her. She put her book aside and searched his face smiling suddenly in amusement.

"So, Rodney, been napping in the lab again?"

He started. "Uh, yeah. How did you know?"

"Oh, I just had a feeling." She reached out to caress his cheek making him tingle. "You might want to avoid doing that from now on."

He rolled his eyes. "I know. It's bad for my back and neck and shoulders and..."

She laughed affectionately. "You really have no idea do you?"

"About what?" Now she had him thoroughly confused. She took his hand and pressed it to his right cheek. There his fingers moved over a circle shape imbedded in his flesh. Inside the circle was the word "DELL" backwards.

"Oh, crap." His hand fell back to the table. "I am so clueless. How _do_ you put up with me?"

Her smile was lovingly indulgent. "That's easy, Rodney. I love you." They leaned toward each other and their lips met over the table.

She ran her index finger through the remaining pie filling and slid it between his lips. "Mmmm. Chocolate cream pie. My new favorite."

**The End**


End file.
